I found a box of clothing from California, some of it brand new, pants and shirts, several pairs of old Levis etc.. None of it fits me anymore, like it's not even close. I was some kind of fucking beast before COVID, then I got fat, then I couldn't eat anymore because it all tasted terrible. I've lost somewhere in the neighborhood of 95 pounds, depending on the day of the week. I was a real barrel ass and almost died from COVID, and then surviving the little murder trip caused me to stop eating.
Who wouldnt be sick?
To know the woman you spent half your life with was lying to you and then tried to poison you to cover it up. Fuck that shit.
Folks back home can kiss my ass if they think for one damn minute that's not how it went. Add in the parolee at large, the Turkish nutcase, the purple mafia, the woman who identified as my sister, along with the fire, my brothers, some kind of religious cult, the DA's office, and a couple of fried out ex cops with an axe to grind.
I was holding an extremely bad hand. My life went from zero to a Tarantino film in a crystal meth heartbeat, to say the least.
My business was booming, I tried to keep my head down and work it out, but ultimately failed due to a total lack of support, while this woman, whom I don't even know anymore, was actively ripping me off. Typical. They love to kick when you're down.
That's when I packed my gear and hit the bricks. All I ever wanted in the first place was to clear out of that troubled little town and go somewhere else. My ex-wife would never hear of it, no matter how much hardship I had to endure to satisfy her fucking greed.
So today I cleaned out the closet, because that is not me anymore. I can't wear a size 42 pair of slacks and never intend to go back, that's all.
I'm keeping all the Levis...
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